


Daydreams And Nightmares

by anemic_cinema



Series: World's End Boyfriend [18]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Conflict, F/F, Friendship, Hero Worship, Internal Conflict, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Nightmares, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: No queers after the zombie apocalypse? I don't think so.</p>
<p>Sophia tries to combat her nightmares with daydreams and potentially foolish actions. Daryl isn't used to someone looking up to him. Dale is touched by T-Dog's friendship towards him. Andrea defends Carol. Glenn tells Daryl more about his relationship with his parents.</p>
<p>CW: homophobic language, reference to a hate crime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daydreams And Nightmares

Water. Teeth. Blood.

Sophia woke up trying to forget the things in her nightmare. All of them were the same now. She was swimming through water but not moving. She was surrounded by hungry mouths. There was blood. Sometimes she could see her father's face gnashing towards her, trying to catch her between his teeth so he could eat her. 

It was still early so her mother was still asleep in the tent they shared. Sophia watched her breathe from her cot. She was still alive. 

Sophia sat up quietly, trying to make it so her cot wouldn't creak. There was no way she was going to close her eyes again, so she slid down and reached under the cot for her hatchet. Carol didn't approve of it, and had insisted she keep it somewhere safe and made her promise not to play with it. Sophia promised. She knew it wasn't a toy. It was her weapon.

She dressed in her regular clothes which were stiff from drying in the sun. With the hatchet in her hand, she snuck out of the tent. No one was up except for T-Dog on top of the RV, but he wasn't looking in her direction. Good. She wanted to practice in private. 

There was a spot around the back of the house that Sophia liked to practice in. It was close to trees, and as private as it could get. She knew that despite everyone's efforts, a walker could wander close to there at any time. She'd be ready for it though, in that foolhardy child way. Standing there, feet firmly planted in a wide stance, the hatchet swung and cut through the air. She pretended she was surrounded by walkers.

“Destroy the head.” Was the mantra she kept repeating. She swung her arms, sometimes spinning and turning to get to the ones sneaking up behind her. In her minds eye, she was powerful. Brave. Capable of defending herself and everyone else, just like Mr. Daryl.

The sun crept higher as she cut through the horde of walkers with her hatchet. She imagined her arms splattered in blood and gore. Maybe she should have something to protect them, like armor or something. The pile of bodies at her feet grew until she was standing on top of them, alive and victorious. The champion and the hero, strong and fearless. 

“What're you doing?” The voice behind her broke her out of her daydream, and she wheeled around, brandishing her weapon. It was Carl. He was looking at her with confusion in his eyes and Sophia became angry. This was her private spot, he had no business being there and asking her dumb questions. 

“Practicing.” She lowered the hatchet.  
“Practicing what?” Carl wiped sweat from his forehead. It was already promising to be a hot day.

“Killing walkers.” She was angry at him for seeing her like this. Sophia knew he'd probably tell his mother, and then she would tell hers, and her mama would look at her with worry in her eyes because she didn't understand that Sophia was trying to protect her. 

Carl looked at her like she was crazy. “You can't kill walkers with that. You kill walkers with guns and stuff.” He pointed to the hatchet. “That's not big enough.”

“Is too.” 

“Is not. You're being weird.”

Sophia gritted her teeth. “Screw you Carl!”

She gripped onto her hatchet and stalked off, knocking into the boy as she walked past him. 

“Hey!” He was too shocked by Sophia's anger to say much more.

“Go cry to your mama about it.” The girl hissed under her breath. He didn't know anything. He didn't know how you could kill walkers. The way he'd looked at her and called her weird for doing what she needed to be doing made her feel like her skin was burning. She didn't want to return to her tent. The only person who would understand was Mr. Daryl. He had his tent far away from everyone else now. She stomped through the tall grass and arrived at the old stone wall where a couple of dead squirrels and walker ears were strung up. Sophia wasn't unsettled by it at all. She knew perfectly well what having those rotten things hanging up did.

She peeked into the tent, quietly whispering. “Mr. Daryl?” 

He was still asleep on the cot, laying on his side with his arms wrapped around Glenn. Sophia crawled in the tent, and sat watching them. They looked so peaceful together, like they had so much love between them that they didn't have to worry about anything. Sophia wished she could be in that love. If you have that kind of stuff, you have everything. 

The older man stirred, blinking and rubbing his face. He could feel a presence in the tent, and he sat up suddenly. When he saw that it was only the little girl who stuck to him like a shadow these days he relaxed. 

“Jesus kiddo,” he ran his hand through his hair, “just about scared me to death.” 

“Sorry Mr. Daryl.” Sophia turned the handle of her hatchet, looking down at it. She wished she could sleep curled up between the two men all cozy like. That would probably make it so she wouldn't have any nightmares.

“What're you doing here anyway?” Daryl tried to soften his voice. He wasn't used to anyone looking up to him, much less a child. He wasn't used to children period.

“Carl made me mad.” 

Glenn sat up with a yawn. “How did he make you mad?” 

Sophia looked at him. As much as she loved Mr. Daryl, she loved Mr. Glenn just as much now. She liked the way he talked to her like she was a person and not just some kid. 

“He was making fun of me.” Sophia shifted so her legs were bent up towards her chest with her arms wrapped around them.

“Aw, I'm sorry. I'm sure he didn't know what he was doing.” Glenn nudged Daryl to move over, and got up. “You know what, I got something for you that'll make you forget all about that.” He grabbed his backpack and sat down in front of Sophia. 

“What is it?” She watched as he pulled out the drawing pad and the crayons and colored pencils. 

“I remembered how good of an artist you are, so when I went into town I decided to pick you up some stuff for you to draw with.” Glenn handed them to her, and she took them reverently. 

“Thank you Mr. Glenn.” Sophia stacked the boxes on top of the drawing pad. “I'll draw you something.”

“That sounds awesome! When you're done with it, I'll hang it up on the wall of the tent along with the super cool drawing you made for Daryl.” Glenn pointed to one of the nylon panels of the tent. “We'll have the best decorated tent in camp like that.” 

Sophia smiled, and hugged Glenn. He squeezed her and patted her shoulders. “Now, does your mom know where you ran off to?” 

“No.” The little girl sighed. She had a feeling that they'd ask that. Adults always did. While Sophia didn't want her mother to worry, she knew that she would when she woke up and found her daughter gone.

“I'll take her back. You start some coffee.” Daryl grabbed his pants and slipped them on over the underwear he'd slept in. The t-shirt he'd slept in was still clean, so it would do for now. 

“'Kay.” Glenn grabbed his hand and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. Sophia wrinkled her nose. It was so weird seeing adults do mushy stuff. 

“C'mon, let's not traumatize the poor kid.” Daryl grumbled. 

“It's ok. I've seen people kiss before.” Sophia collected her gifts under one arm and held on to her hatchet with the other. 

Glenn let out a small laugh at Sophia's matter-of-fact statement. “I'll get coffee on.” He dug around the corner of the tent and pulled out what he needed to make it over the campfire. 

Daryl walked with Sophia back to the main camp. She shifted the things she was carrying so she could grab onto his hand. He didn't say anything when she did. There were some things he was just going to have to accept. Hell, he figured that if he could accept being in love with Glenn, he could accept this little girl considering him a...he wasn't sure exactly how she considered him.

“Mr. Daryl? Do you think I'm weird?” Sophia looked up at him. 

“Nope.” Daryl said it matter of factually. “No more weird than me or anyone else.” 

“Carl said I was weird.” There was hurt in her little voice. The older man cringed on the inside. He knew how bad things like that could hurt. 

“Well Carl don't know his ass from his elbow.” 

That made her laugh, and it was a sound as sweet as birdsong. It made Daryl feel good, and proud of how Sophia was handling things. He wondered if that was how being a father felt like. If his father had ever felt that kind of pride, he never knew it. His father had had two moods, drunk and angry or sober and angry. As they walked back to the main fire, they saw Carol rushing about, asking everyone if they'd seen Sophia. When she saw them, her panic drained out of her face. 

“Baby, don't do that. You had me worried sick.” She knelt down to hug her and Sophia wished she could pull away. She felt guilty for it, but she didn't want to be touched by her mother right now. She just wanted to keep holding onto Mr. Daryl's hand. It was big and it felt safe. Her mother's hands were too delicate.

“She just wanted to come give us a visit.” The older man offered. Carol nodded at him.

“Thank you for bringing her back. She knows better than go bug y'all like that.” 

“It wasn't no trouble.” 

“Mr. Glenn gave me a present.” Sophia held out her new art supplies. 

“Did you say thank you?” Carol stroked her daughter's scalp.

“Yes mama.” She tried to camouflage the hatchet hanging out of her waistband, but her mother saw it. She didn't say anything though. She probably would have something to say about it later though.

“Get ready for breakfast.” Carol rose up. As grateful as she was to Daryl for being kind to her daughter, the more Sophia hung around him the more distant she became. Her little girl was becoming someone she didn't recognize. 

“She's a good egg.” Daryl scratched his goatee. “She's got a lot of spirit.”

“Yeah, she does.” Carol sighed. “I wish she wouldn't impose herself on you and Glenn though.”

“It's no imposition.”

“Thank you for being polite, but it is bad manners on her part. I raised her better.” 

Maybe he was imagining it, but the way Carol said “I raised her” sounded a little more forceful than it had to be. 

**  
Dale was attempting to glue back together the Weeki-Wachee Springs souvenir mug. He'd managed to find a tube of Krazy-Glue in the back of one of the drawers. It couldn't be used again probably, but he wanted to keep it. His wife had bought it on what had proved to be their last vacation together. After that came the diagnosis, and while they kept making plans to travel back down there again, her failing health had prevented that. Maybe he should throw it away, but he wasn't ready to let go just yet. 

The pieces fit back together, and he trailed a line of glue along the broken edge of the mug. 

“Hey man, it's gonna be your turn on watch soon.” T-Dog interrupted the gloom he hadn't even noticed had descended in his mind. 

“Alright, I just gotta finish this real quick.” Dale held the pieces together, hoping that the glue would dry fast. 

“You need help with that? I'm pretty good at that kind of stuff.”

“I think I got it.” Dale let go and the two pieces fell apart from each other. “Damn it!”

“What're you usin'?” T-Dog looked over his shoulder at his work. He smelled like sweat, but Dale found that he didn't mind. 

“Some Krazy-Glue. It should work.” He sighed at the frustrating sight of the still-broken mug in front of him. 

“Naw man, you don't want to use that. You need some epoxy, like PC-11 or ceramic bond.” T-Dog picked up one of the pieces, examining the broken edge. “I used to work at one of them paint-your-own pottery places, and that what we kept around in case.”

“A pottery place?” Dale pictured T-Dog in a paint covered apron, helping out children and little old ladies with glazing and decorating the pre-made ceramics. It made him chuckle a little. 

“Yeah. What, don't I seem the type? I'm real handy with this kind of stuff.” He gave the old man a slight smile. 

“Well, no you don't. You seem the type to have had a tough guy type of job.” 

“And that just shows how you let stereotypes affect your judgment.” Dale's expression fell a little and T-Dog laughed and clapped his back. “C'mon man, it's your turn to be up on top. At least you don't have to worry 'bout hearing Glenn and Daryl getting up to craziness.”

“What? What do you mean.” Dale grabbed his hat and placed it on his head. 

“Last night man. I was up top and I hear those two goin' at it.” He shook his head. “I told them off too. Last thing we need is walkers wanderin' over here 'cause they heard them getting their freak on.” 

Dale laughed even though the scenario was a little to real. “That would be a pretty lousy way to go.” 

“I told Glenn, if you're gonna be doin' crazy stuff out there, just keep it down. It's bad enough some of us have to go without.”

“Hear, hear. We certainly don't need to be knowing the gory details of their private life.” 

“Exactly.” T-Dog placed the broken piece back down on the table. “You know what, next supply run I'll try an find you what you need to repair this. You'll be drinking out of it in no time if you let me fix it.”

“Thanks Theo- I mean T-Dog. I'm sorry, I just can't get used to that nickname.” Dale held out his hands in apologetic surrender.

“S'alright. I'll let you slide old man.” The smile on the younger man's face was bigger now, and Dale could see the small gap between his front teeth. It was endearing. 

“Well, better get up there.” Dale excused himself, and climbed up to the top of the RV to take his spot in the chair with the rifle by his side. He kept thinking back to what T-Dog had told him about hearing Glenn and Daryl going at it. Those lucky bastards. That wasn't what kept his brain going around in circles though. T-Dog hadn't sounded judgmental of those two. Maybe it didn't mean anything, but it was interesting. 

**

Sophia was sitting at the end of the picnic table, trying to make good on her promise to draw something for Mr. Glenn. She couldn't figure out what she should draw. She tried drawing a picture of one of the horses, but it came out below her standards. She tried drawing a portrait of him, but it didn't look right. Finally, Sophia decided on what she wanted to draw. She began with the green crayons, coloring the bottom of the page, then blue for the top of it. One by one, she added things into the drawing. The task absorbed her so completely that she didn't notice Lori and Carl coming to sit at the table. 

“Hi Sophia.” Lori's voice made her look up. Obviously Carl hadn't said anything about that morning, because she didn't have that concerned tone of voice. She just sounded normal. Carl though gave her a sidelong glance, and Sophia almost stuck out her tongue at him. He was such a snot. She gathered her things and left them to the picnic table. She didn't want to be bothered. 

Lori watched the silent child leave the picnic table as Carl began work on his math book. Sophia used to be such a sweet kid. She hoped that her son would never turn out that way. It was worrisome, and it didn't look like Carol was handling it. It had been bothering Lori, and now she knew she had to talk to the other woman about it. The outright disrespect from the child was unacceptable. 

“Carl, keep working on your math. I have to go take care of something real quick.” 

He nodded and kept his head turned down towards his work. He didn't understand why he had to keep working on multiplication when there was no such thing as school anymore. 

Lori got up and went to the spot where they'd strung up lines for the laundry. Surprisingly, Andrea was there helping Carol. She hadn't expected her to be there. Sophia was no where to be seen, which was fortunate. It was a delicate subject, and Lori preferred to not have to bring it up in front of the little girl. Carol was hanging up clothes. 

“Carol, I have to talk to you about something.” She looked over at Andrea, but the blonde was ignoring her. So much for doing this in private.

“What's up?” Carol was looking a lot happier these days, which made Lori feel guilty for bringing this up. 

“I'm a little concerned about Sophia. I think we all are. Ever since Daryl found her she's been acting strange.” 

Andrea interjected. “No duh.” She draped the wet sleeping bag she'd hauled out of the basket. “Lori, you have no idea what happened to her in the woods. None of us do. She came running out covered in blood for Christ sakes. My guess is she saw some pretty horrible things. I think any child would be traumatized and changed after that.” 

Lori glared at her. “I wasn't speaking to you.”

“No you weren't, but let me tell you something.” Andrea stepped closer. “People in glass houses, you know? I think you should be worrying about your own.” 

“Andrea, please.” Carol looked at her pleadingly. “Lori, I know. I'm trying to get her to talk about it...” 

Lori kept staring down the blonde. She had no business in this conversation. She didn't have children and had no idea what she was talking about. 

“Thank you for your concern Lori.” Carol said quietly.

“Just...if I can do anything to help, let me know.” Lori decided to leave it at that. She had to get back to Carl, and she was sick of the blonde looking at her like that. She was still in earshot when she hear Andrea mumble something that sounded like an insult. That woman was really getting on her last nerve.

And it was mutual. Andrea watched Lori walk off and spat out the word “Bitch.”

Carol gave her a stern look. “You shouldn't have gotten involved.” She shook out a shirt before pinning it to the line.

“Like hell I shouldn't have. Lori likes to act like she's the goddamn queen bee around here. She has no right. Hell, I don't even know why she thinks she's in charge, or why Rick thinks he's in charge for that matter.” 

“Rick's alright. He got us here.” Carol shook her head at Andrea's anger.

“Yeah, because he couldn't keep Sophia safe.” Andrea tried to adjust the sleeping bag she'd draped over the line but it slipped to the ground. “Goddamn it.”

“Andrea! Please.” Carol turned to face her. “Don't talk like that. It wasn't Rick's fault.”

The blonde picked up the now grass-covered bag. It was hers, so she didn't care too much about it. “I'm sorry. If I knew it would've upset you I would've stayed out of it. But Lori bosses you around too much. I mean, she's always telling you to do that and this and the other.” 

“I don't mind helping. It keeps my mind off of things.” Carol sighed. “I like feeling useful.”

“Carol, you're too nice. That's your problem.” Andrea smiled at her and it made the other woman feel quivery inside. 

“Well, better too nice than bossy.” The blonde laughed at the subtle dig, and it made Carol feel good, even as her fingers were getting pruned from handling wet laundry. She kept stealing glances towards Andrea. Even if her approach had lacked finesse, Carol wished she would have had the guts to say something like that to Lori. It really wasn't any of her business. 

The blonde looked up from the shirt she was pinning up, and her eyes met Carol's. A bright smile grew on her face, and the gray-haired woman's breath caught in her throat. The blonde had seen the way she'd been looking at her. Then Andrea raised her hand and waved. Carol looked in the direction of her waving, and saw Maggie waving back. She looked so pretty and young, her brown hair shining in the sunlight. Andrea was happy to see her. Carol's good mood faded, along with her hope that the other woman had recognized her secret feelings. She knew it was foolish, but Carol kept hoping that one day Andrea would realize that Carol needed her, and come to her. But people didn't work like that, and neither did affection. 

**

Daryl slid his knife across the wood. The arrows wouldn't be the best, but unless he could find someplace that had them, he'd have to make them himself. Glenn was trying to do the same, paying attention to how the older man was doing it. The sticks he was working on kept breaking.

“Shit.” The younger man tossed the green wood into the fire. It crackled and hissed. “Man, I'm seriously sucking at this.” He looked at the knife that Daryl had given him. It was about four inches long and serrated near the handle. 

“Yer learnin', it's gonna take you awhile 'til you get it right.” Daryl held up the arrow he was whittling down. It was still uneven, but just by a hair. He carefully shaved away one of the sides. Now it was balanced. 

“Whatever. I'm no good at this survivalist stuff.” Glenn sighed.

“Yer still alive aintcha?” Daryl looked at him. He didn't like it when Glenn got down on himself. 

“Yeah.” The younger man dug one of his heels in the dirt.

“Then yer just as good as anyone at it. D'you think just knew how to do this shit? I had to learn it on my own.” Teaching was not something Daryl thought he was good at. He kept trying to explain how to do certain things to Glenn, but it came out sounding confusing and not quite right. When Glenn explained stuff it was clear.

“It's just frustrating.” Glenn picked up another stick and started again. He measured it against one of the arrows Daryl had made and cut off the ends. Slowly, he peeled away the bark, and began shaving the stick into a round shaft. 

“I know baby.” Daryl reached out and patted his back. 

“Growing up I was one of those perfectionist kids, but the thing was I kept thinking that if I wasn't good at something right away I'd never be good at it.” Glenn kept comparing to the arrow he was trying to make with the finished one. It was looking a little more similar than his previous efforts. “I gave up on so many things 'cause of that. Chess, skateboarding, I even tried to join the school band when I was in middle school. I wanted to play the trumpet. I got so frustrated with it because I couldn't get it to sound right. It was the same thing with college.” 

“Yer too hard on yerself.” Daryl's hand was still on his back, and he tried rubbing his palm between Glenn's shoulders. He could feel his spine, all knobby and ladder like. 

“Heh, that's not what my parents thought.” His hands stopped moving. “D'you think...they could still be alright somewhere, right?” He looked over at the older man. “Maybe they got away. That's not too far-fetched.”

“Maybe yeah.” In Daryl's brain the calculation was less generous. The chances were that Glenn's parents were dead, just like most everyone else. No way in hell he was going to say that out loud though. 

“Yeah...It's funny, I think the last time I talked to them was around New Years. I talked to them for maybe five minutes. I don't even remember if I told them I loved them. Hell, I dunno if I even did.” Glenn stared at the fire. “That sounds pretty horrible doesn't it.”

“No. Just because someone's family doesn't mean you have to love them.” Daryl's hand slid to the younger man's shoulder and he scooted closer, holding onto him. He didn't know what else to do. 

“Did I ever tell you about how I came out to them?” 

“Naw, don't think you did.” 

“It was after my freshman year.” Glenn's voice was quiet. “I was back in Michigan for the summer, and I told them I was gay. They just looked at me and didn't say anything. They didn't say anything about it period. They never asked me about it in all the time after that. Even when I'd mention having a boyfriend, they'd just change the subject. It's weird, but I would've preferred it if they'd come right out and disapproved instead of just ignoring it. It was like they were just pretending this big part of me didn't even exist.”

“I dunno, disapproval wouldn't have been no good either. Shit, if my daddy had found out about this he woulda killed me. Merle too. He was always goin' on and on about how faggots were only out to rape dudes and shit.” Daryl didn't want to share more of the grisly details with Glenn. When he was a teenager, Merle had gotten locked up for beating some poor guy almost to death. His defense had been that the guy had hit on him. Whether or not that was true, Daryl had no idea. But it did make it clear to him that if you were attracted to men, you could expect people to hate you and want to kill you for it. That fear had kept him closed off for a long time. 

Glenn put his work aside and slipped one of his arms around Daryl's back. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It was just the way my family was. The way your folks were doesn't sound too great either.” It was one thing to be hated, but being ignored sounded like a different kind of terrible.

“I still miss them though. I miss my mom's cooking.” Glenn sighed. “She used to make his beef and radish soup that was perfect.”

“Couldn't you cook it for yerself?” Daryl rubbed the back of Glenn's neck, making him sigh a little. 

“I dunno, I tried before and it didn't come out right. I'm not that good at cooking.”

“You ain't bad. You make good coffee.” Daryl pressed a kiss against his temple. All this talk was making him think that he should see if there was a library anywhere near there. He was going to have to go look something up. 

**

“Yeah, there's one in the next town over.” Maggie was brushing out one of the horses while Daryl swept the stables. “Why d'you ask?”

“Figured there might be some stuff we could use. Books 'bout what plants are edible. Books for the kids to read and stuff.” Daryl swept out the loose hay and horse hair. 

“That ain't a bad idea.” Maggie smoothed the horse's coat down with her hand. “I'll show you where it is on the map.”

**

Rick was less enthusiastic about Daryl's idea to drive out further than usual for supplies, but when he explained how he wanted to get something for the kids, he conceded it was a good idea. Everyone else though so, and ended up compiling a list of books for Daryl to bring back. T-Dog volunteered to go with him, since he still needed to go find some epoxy to fix Dale's mug with, and according to Maggie there was a hardware store down the street from the library in the town. 

Sophia observed all of this. She wished she was grown enough to go with them. The more she thought about it, the more unjust it seemed to her. She was capable of defending herself and others. If she had the chance to go with them, she knew she could prove to all of them that she wasn't strange for thinking that.

Since the town was only forty minutes away by car, they decided to leave that afternoon. In the excitement of finally getting something to entertain themselves with other than the couple of old paperbacks that Dale had in his RV, no one noticed the little girl sneaking into the back of the truck and covering herself with the tarp. She'd left a note on her mother's cot. She figured that would be enough to stop her from worrying. Under the plastic, she began dreaming of how proud she was going to make Mr. Daryl with her bravery. 

The truck shifted as the two men got into it, and the motor rumbled up. Sophia could feel it's vibrations under her back. She clutched her hatchet to her chest. She was going to show them alright. As the truck drove towards the town, Sophia dreamed her dreams of being a hero like Mr. Daryl while trying to hold onto the flatbed of the truck.


End file.
